


a little love and a little luck

by zunshtral



Category: Dream Daddy: A Dad Dating Simulator
Genre: M/M, Singing, Sleeping Together, jewish dadsona, jewish robert, lots and lots of projecting, sleepy fluff boys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-25
Updated: 2017-07-25
Packaged: 2018-12-06 18:12:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,232
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11606157
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zunshtral/pseuds/zunshtral
Summary: their breathing is quiet in the morning air, and arthur only barely manages to catch a hitch in his throat when robert puts his hand back down, fingertips brushing against arthur’s thigh. they touch normally, yes- pressed against each other on the couch during movies, clumsily holding hands while stomping through the woods, draping over each other in play exhaustion- but it’s always a shock to arthur’s system. most likely because he’s stupidly and pathetically in love with robert, but he can wait. each jolt is only a reminder, cheering robert on through therapy and weaning himself free of addictions, pleased and relieved to see the progress he’s made only a few short months.“can you sing?” robert asks.





	a little love and a little luck

arthur cannot sleep.

which is quite unusual for him, considering he’s usually down for a good 10 hours without interruptions if his plans let him. though he’s been trying to do that less, filling his day with hobbies or book recommendations from hugo or damien, staving off weird nap urges with walking around maple bay if the time allows. the house feels too empty without amanda sometimes, and it keeps him up at night.

looking at his clock, it’s only a bit past 5 am. the sky is only just starting to lighten, and he’s sure that laying in bed and waiting for the sun to come up fully isn’t the best way to spend his time. might as well start the day early and get the paper.

so arthur throws on some pajama pants- pale blue with little snowflakes- and trudges downstairs. there’s cold coffee still in the pot from last night, so he sips it while standing in the middle of the kitchen for a few minutes. it’s awful and the grounds have all solidified at the bottom, but it gets the sleep taste out of his mouth just fine. setting the mug down, he decides to go and get the morning paper and stare groggily at sports news at the very least.

the air is pleasantly cool when arthur opens the door, just light enough that he can see the rest of the cul-de-sac, all the windows still dark and cars parked in the driveways. it’s strangely serene, and arthur stops to enjoy to stillness and occasional bird chirping. his thin sleep shirt is a little under dress code for being outside, but it doesn’t move him from his spot for a few content minutes. the sky was starting to turn a little pink around the edges, clouds still hiding the sun for a little while longer while the world wakes up, the occasional soft beam hitting a tree in a yard or a section of pavement.

it’s a short shuffle to the end of the walkway, newspaper already sitting there in its usual pink bag and waiting to be taken inside. a little wet from morning dew, but arthur still picks it up and gives it a little shake so it’s safe to tuck under his arm. however he scans the cul-de-sac again and much to his surprise, he spots robert sitting on the front steps of his house. arthur knows well enough that robert isn’t typically a morning person either, unless it’s for the rare early smoke. and even those have been getting rarer lately.

still, arthur waves. robert waves back, in a pointed “come over” way, which is even more surprising. but arthur would be lying through his teeth if he said he didn’t want to spend every minute he could with robert. the pavement is cold as hell without any socks on, but he cuts across joseph’s lawn and up the stone of robert’s steps. he looks soft, still a little sleepy around the edges. a worn white tank top and sweatpants, his hair messier than usual. it makes arthur’s heart feel dumb and gooey.

“morning, jersey devil.” arthur’s voice sounds too loud in the pale morning, but he sits down happily when robert pats the spot next to him, both their thighs pressing together warmly. robert doesn’t respond, but his mouth curls into a faint smile. “everything okay?”

robert doesn’t respond again outside a nod, blinking slowly into the morning. arthur is well versed in silence by now, so it doesn’t bother him when the conversation fizzles short. his ass is a little cold from the stone steps, but it’s remarkably peaceful to just exist next to robert and be touching from shoulder to knee without it being weird. it almost feels like they’re the last two people on earth, looking out at the cul-de-sac sleepily.

craig’s house is across from them, but arthur guesses it’s too early for even him to be up and running yet. seeing the neighborhood like this is both strange and comforting- picking out the details in each house and lawn without their owners taking his attention. the gargoyles on damien’s porch, the flower beds underneath brian’s windows, even the faded chalk drawings on mat’s driveway. it’s odd not to see everyone out and about, and it makes him miss amanda fiercely.

he sees her in nearly every place in maple bay, and it bums him the hell out. walking by the food court on his occasional mall trips only make him think about their first day in maple bay, eating disgusting nachos together and planning on where to go next. he can barely go anywhere without a memory popping up, making him look weird by glumly staring at a sign or random tree. arthur had gotten used to pointing out interesting things for amanda’s pictures, so catching himself before speaking out loud to nothing has dampened his mood more than a few times.

he’s still ridiculously and overwhelmingly proud of her though. she sends some of her photography to ask for secondhand opinions or show off a shot she’s particularly proud of- and they’re _amazing._ even if he wasn’t her father, the pictures she takes are beautiful. he cycles them through as his phone background when a new one gets sent, and the folder is carefully maintained by date sent. some of them aren’t project pictures, silly “selfies” with her college friends that still make arthur tear up pitifully at the sight of his baby being happy. he gets calls at weird hours, listens groggily while she raves about an assignment she knows she’ll nail, or trying to calm her down through artist block. even when the texts are sparse and she’s too busy to call, arthur still thinks about her.

arthur’s taken from his thoughts when robert moves next to him, just raising a hand to rub some grit out of his eye. the other man must have shaved recently, only the shortest bits of stubble starting to show along his jaw. the circles under his eyes have lightened recently too, most likely due to some semblance of a proper sleep schedule lately. forcing themselves to bed and getting up at similar times was something they took on together, and arthur was more than happy to see it was doing them- robert, mostly- well. the grey streaking his hair was even more charming after a decent trim.

their breathing is quiet in the morning air, and arthur only barely manages to catch a hitch in his throat when robert puts his hand back down, fingertips brushing against arthur’s thigh. they touch normally, yes- pressed against each other on the couch during movies, clumsily holding hands while stomping through the woods, draping over each other in play exhaustion- but it’s always a shock to arthur’s system. most likely because he’s stupidly and pathetically in love with robert, but he can wait. each jolt is only a reminder, cheering robert on through therapy and weaning himself free of addictions, pleased and relieved to see the progress he’s made in only a few short months.

“can you sing?” robert asks.

arthur blinks, startled from his train of thought yet again. the question takes a second to process, and his cheeks heat a little over the fact he didn’t notice robert staring back at him the whole time. he looks away, picking at the cotton pills on his pajama pants to gather his thoughts.

“not... really.” it feels like a lame answer, and he sees robert look away from the corner of his eye. lowering his voice to not disturb the air, arthur speaks again. “my dad did. he sang to me and my siblings a lot, um. in yiddish, most of the time. lullabies, some love songs...” he trails off, but he can feel now that robert’s looking at him again. it always makes him want to simultaneously hide away and uncover himself completely.

arthur’s fathers couldn’t be more opposite from each other, but he could never remember a time they were apart. his memories were full of them- one father a mountain, the other a mole hill- acting like newlyweds well into the days of amanda’s childhood. dancing in the kitchen, his giant russian father singing ‘ _tumbala, tumbala, tumbalalaika_ ’. renewing their vows, turning each other red as he sang _‘bay mir bitsu sheyn, bay mir hos tu heyn’._ it had taken arthur years to actually look up the meaning of the words, but it didn’t seem to matter even then. his father’s singing is what made them special, and the reason why he still remembered them well.

he dared to look up, and robert was still watching him. soft, though most of the bleary sleep was gone from his eyes now. not the stare that bore into arthur’s face when they had met, but still persistent, almost curious but not wanting to break the spell over him. arthur didn’t often feel awkward around robert lately, but the urge to deflect some of the vulnerability came quick, stumbling on his words to get something out. “that was, before he lost an e-”

robert shakes his head, just slightly. his hand moves, taking one of arthur’s and lacing their fingers together, bringing it back to his own lap and covering it with his other hand. arthur will never get over the warmth from robert’s hands, and the familiar calluses and scars from whittling. his free hand feels cold on it’s own, so he tucks it between his thighs as subtly as he can, looking down at the pavement walkway.

“my grandmother used to sing in ladino, when i was younger.” arthur’s head turns, surprised. he’d never asked or gained any insight to robert’s family besides val, and they were still rebuilding some semblance of trust, let alone talking about grandparents and great grandparents. he wonders briefly what robert looked like as a kid, running around the streets of brooklyn and being sung to sleep by an old sephardic woman. he doesn’t push though, quietly filing the fact away to ask about later. robert’s thumb rubs up and down the side of arthur’s hand, and with just that his shoulders feel lighter.

robert clears his throat quietly, and arthur watches his profile carefully. he can see the other man open and close his mouth a few times, unsure of how to start his next sentence, and arthur squeezes his hand gently.

“can you… sing me one of them?” robert asks.

arthur thinks for a moment, watching robert’s thumb swipe up and down the side of his hand. they’re still alone in the cul-de-sac, the sun only just starting to hint along the horizon and brighten the sky while birds still chirp and flutter around. there’s no reason for him to be shy, but he still leans closer, arms pressed together and head bent forward slightly, repeating the words he’d heard so many times as a kid only to robert.

“um… _a bisl libe un a bisele glik, ii zun zol shaynen._

_nor oyf eyn oygnblik, ven ikh zol kenen... in mayn hartz._

_arayn..._ _brengen zonnenshayn, oyf eyn minit._ ”

he’s more speaking it than singing, but he remembers the words well enough. arthur can barely recall the image, but he remembers the feeling- his father, tall and loud and brash, sitting with he and his younger brother the day their baby sister came home. she was tiny, wrapped in a purple blanket and holding onto one of their father’s fingers like her life depended on it. but the song kept them all quiet, transfixed on the new addition to their family.

“ _a bisl libe un a bisele glik, di zun zol shaynen_

_nor oyf eyn oygnblik..._

_der liber got hot yedn gegebn_

_azoy fil glik in lebn, nor mir keyn zakh nit..._ ”

arthur leans his head against robert’s shoulder gently, letting the last line of shaky yiddish disappear into the morning air. some of the words he’d remembered well, _sunshine_ and _love_ , _bisl_ from what his grandparents had called them as children. arthur chances a look at robert, finding him with eyes closed and even breathing. sitting outside for this long has clearly caught up with both of them by now, and arthur gently shakes robert awake. the bleariness in his eyes is back, but he looks… pleased. happy. peaceful. he blinks at the sky, squinting when the sun starts peeking out from behind craig’s house.

“do you want to come… sleep?” normally, arthur would worry more about that sounding like a proposition, but they were clearly both tired and the idea of crawling back into bed alone just wouldn’t do it. they stand, steadying each other’s stumbling, and walk barefoot across the asphalt and up the steps of arthur’s house. their fingers stay laced up the stairs and into arthur’s room, both yawning quietly the entire way. robert waits for a second until arthur realizes he’s waiting in case he wants to remove clothing, so he sheds his shirt and robert follows suit.

crawling into bed first, arthur’s back presses against the wall before robert slides underneath the blankets as well. both of them stay still in the silence, slowly blinking to fight off sleep just another moment. it’s only another beat until robert raises an arm, beckoning arthur to curl against his chest. so he does.

arthur falls asleep almost instantly.

**Author's Note:**

> hello and welcome to self indulgence hell
> 
> my dadsona doesn't follow the canon backstory for the mc and is based on another oc, so please don't edit or anything to fit your own dadsona
> 
> you can find me on tumblr and twitter @zunshtral!


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